the Bitter Side of Left.

The Bitter Side of Left

By Jennie Kissane Battaglia

Metaphorically they say taking the “right turn” would have led me to remain home and I do think it would have. But taking a “left turn” would lead me away to the unknown- a place where I could be whatever I wanted. A left turn might free me to make choices.

The right turn would have taken me to the same house that I had always known, the one that I grew up in, the only home I ever really knew. The familiar smell of my mother cooking in the kitchen, I had a habit of peeking in the kitchen most nights to see what my mom had going on the stovetop and that night I was in luck it was one of my favorite dinners, cheeseburgers on English muffins and tater tots. And there in the living room you could find my dad sprawled out on the couch sleeping until called to dinner. He was famous for getting a “little rest” from a long day of teaching. Other evenings he would be up, and my dad’s laughter would fill the living room while he was watching the shows he found amusing on TV. My two younger sisters are always around.

It was the year I graduated high school and turned eighteen that I fell in love and for the first time. A real relationship type situation now for a little over a year. It was not the kind of relationship my parents dreamed of for me. He was not from the same kind of traditional family as we were in. His folks were divorced. His mother resided with her partner, while her three children lived independently in a nearby rental property that she continued to finance. And they had way too much freedom for my parents to like.

But I was foolish young and in love and it was obvious “love” had gotten the better of my young mind and I was head over heels in love with him be it right or wrong- I was all in this relationship.

I can now admit it; he was not a desirable choice for me. He had issues from the start. He was not dependable in any way, But the real issue and the real problem that plagued this young inexperienced relationship from the start and remained the theme that never left us was that he had a gambling addiction.But as the first year came and went I realized that it was an issue I knew it was escalating when he would be broke at the end of the week from losing a job, and he would ask me for a little bit of my money.

At first, I would. It seemed logical, and then I realized he never made the “big win.”

After countless arguments and fruitless conversations that just went round and round to nowhere to the point where no one wanted to give him a chance or money any longer, not even me.

His aunt and uncle lived in Texas, and at the time gambling in that state was illegal in the early '80s, so they offered him a place to live and a fresh start. Dallas seemed like the perfect solution- except there was me.

I was going to college full time while holding down a full-time job and fitting in time for my relationship. It was all heading in the right direction except for the major gambling addiction my partner had and now he was going to leave the state to start over extremely far from me and everyone and everything he knew. And to make it even worse and I thought to myself- if that could even be possible, it was. He asked me one night to go with him, well not actually with him, he wanted to go down there and get situated and then he wanted me to go there and join him. I thought for sure his intend was leaving me behind but once he asked me and that elated feeling wore off and the reality of me possibly going and leaving all that I knew and loved and all that I was just starting to build for myself now just the thought of flying off to Texas took my breath away and was soon replaced with total anxiety. How would I even dare broach the subject to my parents that I wanted to take off with the boyfriend they really did not even like, and I was going to start a life halfway across the country at 19? I did not even know how to start that conversation, but he already had a ticket, and he was leaving on the first of September and asked if I would join him in the New Year.

For a while I kept the idea to myself, like a well-kept secret from everyone. It is not that I did not value my parents’ opinions because I did. But a part of me wanted to go, wanted to see a different part of the world. I wanted to decide by myself. And if I was being honest with myself, I knew the reaction was not going to be a positive one not from my parent’s family or friends. All the people I loved dearly and held highly in my inner circle were skeptical of my relationship and I know most were just hoping it would fizzle out or that I would tire of him and move on. I may have been young back then, but I was keen on people’s intuition.

For the first time in my young adult life, I was going to take a “left turn” and take a chance on the different and unknown, I did not want to stay in the right, the familiar, the safe. September came and he left as planned.

Everyone was right with him gone I was heartbroken. But I was not going to get over him in any way. If anything, the absence of him in my everyday life made me even more convinced I was in love and needed to go to him.

I decided to try out the idea that I was moving out of state to be with him on my closest friends and that did not go over well.

But time was running out on me. I had to finish my school semester and let my job know I was leaving. I had so much to pack up, decide what I was taking and what I was leaving behind, like my car. And even more importantly I needed to ask for help buying a plane ticket to Texas. I had never bought a ticket on a plane before not only did I not have enough money for it, but I needed guidance on how to obtain a ticket. I was hoping I could rely on my dad’s support for that.

I felt I could talk with my dad first, he always had such a calming influence on so many matters of life I felt his wisdom and he was always willing to share it and guide in a gentle manner I needed that now more than ever. I felt confident if anyone might understand young love and adventure it would be him, and he and I usually had donuts and tea on Sunday morning before the others got up, so I thought that was the perfect time to have the conversation.

I was unusually nervous that Sunday morning, he noticed it right away and asked me what was up. I looked at him right in his warm smiling brown eyes and blurted out my secret about leaving to go live with my boyfriend in Texas. At first, he smiled as if I was making a joke-and then he saw the seriousness all over my face. He put down his teacup and half eaten donut all while staring at me and never breaking his eye contact with me and asked me if I was serious?

"Yes," I whispered. And he asked me “why?” why would I want to do this? I tried to explain with out getting upset like a small child being questioned, that I loved him and he asked me to go there and see if I liked it and I wanted to try living together and building a life together there or even someday coming back to New York. My dad seemed confused and unsure about my plans to leave and why I would consider it. He assumed my boyfriend and I had broken up and thought I was moving forward with my personal and professional plans. My dad asked me about my continuing education and my job, what would become of that? He then said what I hoped he would not- that this idea was not going to go over well with my mom- not at all.

He then informed me that he would support my decision regardless of his personal agreement with it. And yes, he would purchase the ticket and get me to the airport when the time came.

I remember now as I write this as if it’s once again that Sunday morning all over again and forty five years hasn’t passed, the look in his eyes as we finished up the conversation, he was resolved to help me, but I saw the sorrow and I saw the pain in those warm now not smiling brown eyes, somehow after we talked I knew the sorrow that was in his eyes was caused by me, my decision and him not really understanding why I would leave him and the family. For a moment I wanted to take back my words, I wanted to tell him it was a terrible joke and I was not really going anywhere, but the truth was I was going, and now I had to tell my mom and my siblings too.

Later that day, I talked to my mom about my decision to leave for Texas. I went to her in the kitchen where she was making a Sunday sauce as she always did, pasta dinner on Sunday was her one held Italian tradition in our house. I told her I had talked to dad and wanted to talk to her about a decision I had made for myself. It seemed to be a little bit harder for me to start the conversation with my mom because my mom and I were extremely close we were only 22 years apart so most of the time she was more like my friend when she guided me and loved me instead of my maternal parent. It felt like I was going to tell my best friend that I was leaving and I knew before I even began she was not going to understand it or even if she did understand, it was not going to be what she wanted, not for me, not for her, not for both of us and our close relationship. She stared at me as I explained what I wanted to do and when I wanted to do it, and how I was going to do it. And through the entire process of explanation she just stared at me, and did not say a word. After I explained my perspective, it felt as though I had just presented a case. She became emotional and cried. She did not say anything, she just cried. I just stood there blinking as tears started to fall from my eyes. I did not close in on her for a hug, and she did not reach out to me. I realized her tears were more of anger and hurt. And mine were because I knew that I had caused that hurt. She finally said “I do not want you to go, this is not the right decision for you, and it is going to hurt our family and, in the end, it is going to hurt you much more than you realize. I told her I understood what she was saying and I respected what she was saying, but it's something I needed to do for myself and that if I didn't do it I would always have wished that I did go and try and because of that I needed to go and at least try. And if it did not work out, I would be back and if it did workout I would still try and get back to New York. She understood that I had made a definitive decision. It was from that day forward until I left, she was never really the same to me. She was distant and cold and somewhat reserved in all of our conversations once or twice she would strike out with words about why I would pick someone like him? Why him? She kept asking but she was not really looking for an answer, she just did not like him and no matter what I said it would not have mattered. It was a couple of days later that I had a conversation with my two younger sisters and both were extremely upset they could not understand why I would be leaving.

As we headed into winter and my inevitable departure was only a couple of weeks away the holidays were clearly not the same that year they had a strain to them not the jolly celebrations that we always had over the years with Thanksgiving Christmas and the New Year now that all that seemed to be on anyone's mind was the fact that the day after New Year's I was heading out on a plane by myself to start a new life. There were many times back then that I was not certain, I was scared, I was anxious, and I did not even know how I got here. How did I even make this decision? Why did I make this decision? Was he worth it? I was giving up everything and I wasn't even sure the person I was giving it all up for was worth it? But I was determined to go now. I had caused too much damage to the people I loved. Again, my father confronted me one more time as did my mother asking me if I was sure that I wanted to do this? Then at some point my mother got wind that my father had bought the ticket for me she was so angry with him she stopped talking to him asked him how he could possibly have done this knowing that it was the wrong thing for me. The day I was leaving only my dad was taking me for the drive to the airport, so I kissed them all goodbye, my sister's crying, and my mother just stoic. She was not giving an inch of emotion. My father drove me to the airport. It was a silent ride- what could one really say it was what youth was all about. He knew that. He understood why I was going; he just did not want me to go but he never said that. He took me to the airport, saw me to where the gate was, hugged me and then hugged me again. He told me if there was anything I needed to just call; he would always be just a phone call away. He told me to be safe and to be happy and if I was not safe or happy to come back home. That home would always be there. I think I cried the whole first two hours of the flight, not because I was scared not because I was sad. I knew that my mother was going to spend a good many days crying for me and that she wasn't going to talk to my father for quite a while because of buying that ticket and seeing me to the airport. I knew that she would have to console my younger sisters and explain to my friends why I did it, and that is exactly what happened. But after a while she started calling me in Texas and she started sending me packages with pretty things and things she knew I would enjoy. And then I knew that she was trying to support me in her own way. She was slowly coming around.

In the end it does not matter how the whole Texas ordeal panned out. What matters now is that when I think about what I did back then taking the “left turn” away from home not doing what I had always done gone, go to the right to everything I knew to everything that was safe to everything that made me happy. Taking that left turn changed me forever. I had to grow up at an early age, I had to carry so much on my shoulders and learn so much so quickly. There is no fairy tale ending here, this is not a “happily ever after.” It is just a decision that I made at the time that I thought was the right decision. Looking back, I would always choose to stay right rather than go left. I would have stayed right there with my family going to college, working a job, driving the car that I loved, being with the friends that I loved. I would have extended that time in my life so much longer than a mere 19 years. The part that I keep reflecting on is that when I returned to New York years later, my dad suddenly died of a massive heart attack at 50 in our driveway on a Tuesday night. I lost those years with him, and I only had four years back here in New York with him. What I would not give to have all the time that I missed out with him by not going “left.”